Cleaners
by Konstantinsen
Summary: It was a simple arrangement. Anything Glynda couldn't fix with her Semblance would be left to the Cleaners. And while they operated away from the attention of pesky students, Glynda knew it would only be a matter of time before someone would start asking questions again. Unfortunately, it happened to be team RWBY.
1. Chapter 1

Glynda Goodwitch was still in her freshman year at Beacon Academy when she first saw them. In the wake of a spectacular duel between two upperclassmen that resulted in the destruction of a large portion of the school's property, she had volunteered to help clean up the mess. It served mainly as practice for her Semblance—telekinesis—as well as brownie points with the staff.

Headmaster Ozpin seemed tickled at the idea and allowed her to undo most of the damage done. Channeling her Semblance through graceful gestures, bricks hovered back into place, uprooted plants were hastily stuffed back into their pits, and a tilting pillar was righted on its foundation. That left the scattered dirt, smeared mud, and spots of blood that Glynda had no power over.

So she stayed behind to help the janitors clean up. How fateful that decision would later prove to be.

"It's fine, kid. You can go back to class now," dismissed the oldest among the group, a man with a graying beard.

Glynda, still being an optimistic student and more than eager to please for the sake of better marks, insisted. The other custodians were visibly irritated but the aged janitor chuckled, waved his hand, and acquiesced.

"What's your name, sweetie?"

"Glynda Goodwitch."

"Goodwitch, huh. So you can make things float and put 'em back in their place, eh?"

She nodded as she squeezed off the sponge over the bucket. "My Semblance is telekinesis, sir. I'm learning how to master it."

"Taking every chance you can get, huh. That's wise."

"Thank you, sir."

An hour later, she helped them pack their things. She noted how strangely uneasy most of the others were. Probably because she was handling their equipment—which she understood—but they were mostly cleaning equipment: mops, scrubs, sponges, sprays. Nothing to be upset about. That was until she reached under the trolley to tuck away a trowel.

At first, she thought she was seeing things in the dimming dusk lighting. But upon closer inspection, the item was undeniable.

Glynda was pulled out from under by a visibly upset cleaner. "Just what the hell are you snooping around down there, missy?"

Before she could sputter an excuse, the gruff man with the unshaven stubble began barking harsh reprimands until he was soothed by an arm on his shoulder. "I'm sure she didn't break anything."

"Headmaster Ozpin!" the freshman blurted.

"Sir, your student here has been very pesky," worded the janitor. "We prefer to work undisturbed."

"I understand but allow her this chance to master her skills."

"In snooping?"

"Her Semblance. Telekinesis. It has proven useful."

The man grunted then pushed the cart away. "Sure was."

"The cleaning's all done, headmaster."

Ozpin nodded. Together, the two watched the remaining janitors pack up and disappear into the staff apartments. When they rounded the corner, he tapped her on the shoulder. "No need to fret over them, Miss Goodwitch. They are more used to operating by without outside assistance. Even from other staff."

"Allow me to speak freely?"

"This is not a military institution. So speak your mind."

Glynda glanced over her shoulder one more time before saying, "They seem...off."

"Ah, but that's just their nature."

"How so?"

"In time you will understand." Ozpin leaned close. "If you are that eager, then perhaps I can make this offer as early as now."

"What offer, sir?"

"Would you like you become a member of my teaching staff? You certainly have the potential."

Glynda was taken aback. Her jaw clicked emptily like a fish out of water. A teacher? Already? But she was still in her first year at Beacon! She was still learning the ropes. This was too early, indeed.

Of course, Ozpin understood. He gave her until graduation to think it through. For the next four years, Glynda Goodwitch toiled to be the best she could be, her team the best it could be. There were trials along the way, brutal slaps of reality that hurt more than it healed, but when she marched out of the institution a certified Huntress, she remembered the offer. And put it on hold for the next five years.

In that time, she kept running into the 'Cleaners' as they were called. At Beacon, they were a common sight. Rumors swirled about them—former employees from other companies, a few of them having shady pasts—but they mostly ended there. She decided not to entertain herself with such gossip while she focused on her studies.

Outside of Beacon, however, when she was in the field with other Huntsmen and Huntresses, she was taken aback when she saw them again. Not in their blue and yellow jumpers but in pitch black suits and obsidian ties. They cleaned up after Grimm attacks, after bloody engagements between criminals and police, after unfortunate accidents.

Glynda learned their names. Some of them, at least. Mister Coronet, the old man and unofficial head of the group. Mister Nail, the grumpy brute capable of putting things together as he is at taking them apart. Mister Bolt, a tinkerer with a fascination for spare parts. And Mister Sparks, an enigma who was 'very good at getting rid of the sticky ones.' There were others but they kept their distance. By then, she was not a clueless student. She was an accomplished Huntress with a respectable tally under her belt.

She knew who the Cleaners really were. Professionals. Unassuming janitors by day, underground 'waste disposal and sanitation workers' by night. What she saw underneath that trolley in her freshman year confirmed it: a silenced submachine gun tucked between two plastic containers of bleach.

Glynda wondered what Ozpin needed them for other than cleaning up after on-campus messes. She later found her answer when she decided to be a member of Beacon Academy's teaching staff. It took a while adjusting to her new environment but her experience in the field helped enforce her new persona as the institution's firmest disciplinarian.

No more wild parties, no more careless duels, no more rogue students philandering about. Having mastered her Semblance, she was able to undo most damage save for the stains and spatters that needed to be scrubbed. She started seeing the Cleaners more often and her relationship with them improved from frosty acquaintances to trusted associates.

Then Ozpin raised another offer. One that would change her entire perspective and direction in life. Initially, Glynda was apprehensive and even downright against such a clandestine group operating potentially illegally under the auspices of Beacon Academy. Then she remembered the Cleaners and their shady operations. What she had seen them do, what she had heard them do...

And so Glynda Goodwitch was now an accessory to a massive conspiracy. Beacon contracted a group of select skilled individuals adept at 'cleaning up.' They became rarer with her now usually dealing with the damage control but they would occasionally appear to scrub the spatters and clear out those hard to reach places.

But for all that effort and acquaintanceship, Glynda knew she was still in the dark. Even as a member of Ozpin's Inner Circle, she knew the least. General Ironwood was wary of them for reasons he refused to disclose. Qrow simply ignored her and drank from his flask until he was far enough away from her pestering. And Ozpin seemed to be content with leaving her with what little she had of them.

Eventually, she decided to let it pass.

Whoever the Cleaners were, as long as they did their job and she did hers, there was nothing to make a fuss about.

That was until team RWBY came around.

* * *

 **ORIGINALLY DRAFTED: June 26, 2018**

 **LAST EDITED: June 26, 2018**

 **INITIALLY UPLOADED: June 26, 2018**


	2. Chapter 2

Glynda was on the verge of an aneurysm shortly after restoring order in the cafeteria.

As though team RWBY was enough of a hassle, team JNPR decided to instigate this ridiculous overblown game of wantonly chucking food at each other. It was a horrible mess and she was peaking near her breaking point had in not been for Ozpin's timely 'words of wisdom' as she often (but not genuinely derisively) called.

But he did have a point. They were in the prime of their youth and had every right to enjoy it to the fullest. Glynda could not deny them that. Besides, if pressed, she would grudgingly admit that she missed the wild days of her life here as a student.

The laughter from the two freshmen teams died down when they finally took stock of the deputy headmistress standing in the middle of what had once been their war zone, glaring at four human-sized silhouettes stenciled against a massive mural of food and drink on the far wall. Adopting her iconic stern facade, she let the stillness hang in the air until little Miss Rose darted in front of her to apologize profusely.

"Miss Rose, I would be willing to let you off the hook from this debacle once," she calmly countered.

"Yes, Miss Goodwitch!" rigidly chorused the eight freshmen.

"Now go get cleaned so you can come back here and mop up the rest of this mess before your next class."

They gaped in horror. Some of them began stuttering.

"Did you honestly think that I could scrape pudding off the walls?" Glynda challenged, expecting whatever excuse that would not save them from this punishment.

"No. You won't," answered someone from the doorway.

Glynda felt a heavy weight settle in the pit of her stomach. Turning around, she caught Mister Coronet in his grey jumper and yellow rubber gloves filing in with the other Cleaners. He nodded courteously at her.

"Another day, another mess," he greeted. "We'll take it from here, Glynda."

She slowly nodded. "Mister Coronet."

"Mister who?"

The deputy headmistress grimaced. Of course. This was the first time in a long time that the Cleaners emerged to help clean up a mess she herself could not accomplish on her own. Damn. Remaining impassive, she answered Ruby, "He is Mister Coronet. A member of our janitorial staff."

"Oh." She shuffled her feet as the other Cleaners began setting up their equipment around the sections of the building mired in food. "Sorry. I guess we should pick up a mop."

"That won't be necessary." Glynda ignored the incredulous reactions she received from the guilty parties. "Get yourselves cleaned and ready for your next class. They will handle this."

"But, Miss Goodwitch, you said we needed to—"

The deputy headmistress interrupted the young Schnee heiress. "Do I have to repeat myself?"

Teams RWBY and JNPR straightened with a unified 'Yes, ma'am!' then hastily filed out the double doors but not without throwing curious parting glances at the Cleaners, most especially from Miss Belladonna.

Glynda released the breathe building up in her lungs as she reclined onto one of the benches. That was a close call. The Cleaners were such a rare sight that the student body happily engaged in rumormongering about whether or not they were really necessary given the state of order in the campus and that she out of all people could fix everything.

Tch. As if. She was only one person with papers to grade and reports to fill. Not to mention the contingencies that would emerge demanding her direct intervention such as the case of Miss Ruby Rose's valiant vigilantism against Roman Torchwick. Thank the heavens there were no serious casualties in that debacle!

"Such an energetic lot," remarked Mister Coronet.

Glynda regarded him cautiously. She lifted her legs to allow him to mop the floor underneath her. "They are...wily."

"They could get themselves hurt."

"I know." She was uneasy with how he worded that.

Coronet only smiled that deceptively reassuring smile of his. Leaning slightly, he continued in a dangerously low tone, "They caused quite a mess at the docks not too long ago."

Glynda felt her breath hitch in her throat but managed to maintain her impassiveness. "It was unfortunate but the issue has been settled."

"Yes. Unfortunate. We even brought a few extra body bags. At least we didn't have to use them."

"Your realism is reassuring."

A light chuckle. "You almost ended up in one, if I recall correctly. Your freshman year, too. A repeat of history?"

She turned away. "I'm trying to avoid that. They are my students; they should learn from the mistakes of the past." She could feel him staring down at her even as he continued mopping.

"Stellar as they are, they're going to have to face the realities of their folly," Coronet replied. "I can't say I'm anticipating fatalities this academic year but know that it is a very real possibility."

"That's a very—"

"Grim assessment? I'm only being realistic. Since you've begun your tenure here, there has not been a single serious casualty. Remember that there are factors that are beyond our control. It's only a matter of time, my dear."

Glynda studied him. The man radiated a false sense of calm, masterfully masquerading as this diligent old man with a broom and a mop. Clean-shaven and professional. If Ozpin was the sage strategist in the grand scheme of things, Coronet would have fit the role of sagacious adviser.

"The White Fang," she pressed. "Should we be concerned?"

Coronet chuckled. "Glynda, Glynda. You always doubt us."

She felt her blood run cold. Mister Coronet very rarely referred to her by her first name. She knew she was treading on a minefield here. "I can never be too sure," she carefully responded.

"There no signs of any immediate retaliation. The Vale chapter would need to build up their strength. Especially after loosing four bullheads and scores of their members. Not that they would be missed."

"Have you...?"

"We only clean up." And with that, he moved off to another corner.

Glynda kept her eye on him until the sound of sloshing and mechanical whirring reverberated across the empty cafeteria caused her to turn her attention to the scene playing three tables behind her. The decrepit lift hoisting Mister Nail to the ceiling froze. He smashed his fist into the console in frustration.

"Goddamn piece of trash. Who the fuck throws food this high?"

"Didn't expect a food fight to turn into... _this_ ," Mister Bolt snorted from below.

"Damn hyperactive kids..." Mister Nail delivered another heavy-handed smack and the lift belched a dark plume of smoke into Mister Bolt before continuing its ascent to the ceiling.

"We need to get this fixed," he wheezed.

The deputy headmistress sighed. Best to leave the Cleaners to sort the rest out. She had better things to do today. First and foremost being that she needed to make sure teams RWBY and JNPR were not as curious as she dreaded them to be.

* * *

Glynda was observant.

Her fears were coming true: team RWBY was not-so-subtly prodding for answers that were simply beyond them. At least, for this time. Sooner or later, the more they would be the field, the likelier they would encounter the Cleaners. Nevertheless, for their safety, she indistinctly tried to interrupt their snooping.

Timing her strolls to block their vision, issuing sudden calls for minute tasks, burdening them with extra homework to keep them busy. Alas, she could only do so much to stifle their budding curiosity.

Miss Rose was easy to tell off. Miss Xiao Long took a bit of effort. Miss Schnee folded easily but Miss Belladonna had proven the most difficult to distract. In fact, the deputy headmistress suspected the silent bookworm was onto her. 'Tis the challenge of admitting an experienced former member of the White Fang...

"Yes, Glynda?" With the Cleaners constantly clearing the Dust labs thanks to an ever troublesome Miss Valkyrie, Coronet was not that difficult to locate.

"You're getting famous."

He smirked. "I see."

Glynda surveyed the empty laboratory, which had mostly been cleared to allow for Nail and Bolt to scrub the tiles clean of that sticky substance that Miss Nikos had somehow accidentally conjured. Most of the student body had already retired to their dorms by now. "I encourage you to limit your visibility."

At this, she felt the eyes of every single Cleaner in the room center on her, the weight of their stares bearing down on her shoulders.

"Of course, Glynda," Coronet answered. "We know the drill."

"Some students are...getting curious."

"It can't be helped. Who knows? Maybe we will get another Glynda digging her hands in a bucket under the trolley, eh?"

"Please."

Coronet nodded. "Get some rest, dear. You're tired."

Later, as she exited the labs, she could pick out the outline of Miss Belladonna leaning behind one of the pillars. She exhaled; she was too tired to deal with this. Glynda could only hope that she would drop the matter and refocus on her studies.

* * *

 **ORIGINALLY DRAFTED: July 1, 2018**

 **LAST EDITED: July 8, 2018**

 **INITIALLY UPLOADED: July 8, 2018**


End file.
